


Jealous

by livixbobbiex



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Pining!Cas, Sad, Songfic, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2832119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livixbobbiex/pseuds/livixbobbiex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm jealous of the rain <br/>That falls upon your skin <br/>It's closer than my hands have been <br/>I'm jealous of the rain" -  'Jealous' by Labrinth </p>
<p>Or, Cas pines for Dean during a rainstorm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jealous

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fic that I saw in a facebook group

They’re running from cops. They’ve ganked the ghost, as Dean would put it, but they’ve been caught digging up the body in the local cemetery. Castiel, fully human now, misses not knowing exactly where they are. They hadn’t been paying attention in the night to where they were going, and now they’re just in some open field.

Dean stops to catch his breath, and then collapses with laughter. “I haven’t...” he pauses to breathe again, “I never... not for years!”

The corners of Castiel’s own mouth twitch up into a gentle smile. He does hate, though. He loathes that he can’t run for twenty minutes without having to stop for air. “I think we lost them.”

Dean nods, but now he’s breathless with laughter. Even though Castiel is one of them, he doesn’t think he’ll ever truly understand humanity, or what’s so funny. “Really, Cas? ‘This isn’t what it looks like’? Oh, man!” Dean’s laughter may not make sense, but it fills Castiel with a feeling. Joy, maybe. Rapture? Dean Winchester, completely relaxed and undone with laughter, is something he doesn’t deserve to witness. “You made me run,” he says with a hint of disbelief.

Castiel doesn’t reply, he observes. He wishes he could do that, too. He wishes he could be less tense and just live.

A drop of water falls almost lazily an inch or so from his face, then another and another. Before he knows it, it’s as if Heaven itself is open. Castiel hates the rain. It soaks his clothes and makes him cold and wet. About ten paces away there’s a large tree, but its branches are low and leafy enough to offer decent shelter. Castiel heads to it, expecting Dean to follow, but he doesn’t.

When Castiel turns back, he can make out the form of Dean standing stationary, staring right up at the storm. Dean laughs another time and shrugs off a few layers of clothes so he’s left in a t-shirt and jeans. He spins on the spot, stretching his arms as far as they can reach. For some reason, the rain isn’t bothering him. Somewhere in the distance, there’s a crack of thunder and the sky is a white hot flame. He sees Dean properly in the lightning. His clothes are drenched, and they stick too tightly to his body. Rain covers and slides down his body. Dean laughs, and completely falls back in bliss.

“Cas,” he calls, like an invitation.

Castiel can’t join him, even if there’s lightning now and underneath a tree is an incredibly unwise place to be. He can’t join Dean because he knows he’ll become just like the rain if he does. Dean like this, unconditionally happy and relaxed, would be impossible to resist. From the moment Castiel had first laid a hand on him in Hell onwards, Dean had carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Castiel suspected that’s the way Dean has always been, never careless or free.

He’s beautiful like this, and Castiel both yearns and dreads him looking like this all the time. He craves every burst of lightning to light up the scene, because a glimpse of Dean truly does make him the luckiest human alive. The lightning is a similar colour to Dean’s soul, he notices. The thought makes him even more regretful. He had truly expected raising Dean from perdition to be a hard mission, but that soul had called out to him like a beacon. He had never, and will never now, seen a soul so light. At least he has this, he tells himself, Dean perfect and gorgeous and smiling with childlike wonder in a rain storm.

The thought makes him more miserable still. He doesn’t _have_ this. He never can. If he goes from his shelter and joins Dean in the storm, side by side, he won’t be able to stop himself from having him. He almost groans at himself. Castiel realises that he’s jealous of the rain, and it’s ridiculous. The drops roll over every inch of Dean’s body, and he embraces their icy touch on his skin. He stands again and falls into a sort of dance, as if he’s really making up for his lacking childhood in one intense shower.  

No, Castiel doesn’t let himself join. He watches Dean’s happiness, which he knows will dry up like the water. Just witnessing should be enough, but it isn’t. He wants to touch every inch of Dean’s body. Yes, he’s jealous of water. He practically pines for it. Letting himself imagine what it would be like to be the reason for Dean’s happiness, Castiel closes his eyes and leans against the rough bark. This beautiful torture will be through soon. Soon.

“I’ll never touch you like that,” he mutters to himself under his breath. Save for a few casual touches in some situations, he’ll never be that close to Dean.

He smiles sadly at watches the display before his eyes. He’s great at watching.


End file.
